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I sniffled and looked at her sleeping face. She looked older than I remembered. I should have been more aware of it.

“I’d do anything to make this right, Mom. Anything.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “Your time is up. it’s time to leave.”

Outside, I found that my son and the man he didn’t know was actually his father getting along famously. It tugged at my heart to see the two of them together, coloring with crayons and talking excitedly about what they were going to draw next.

They truly looked like a bonafide father and son.

“Wait a second,” I said as I walked up to them. “That’s not… where did the crayons go?”

“Oh another kid needed them,” Damon said. “A sick kid, so I told the nurse they could take them.”

“So what are you drawing on then… is that money?”

“Yes, we’re giving Benjamin Franklin a mustache and beard.” He showed me their handiwork. “Personally I think old Ben looks pretty good with a ’stache.”

“Doctor,” I said as he joined us. "Are you sure a transplant won’t help my mother?”

“I’m afraid that at her age, she will be moved far back on the waiting list. She is not likely to receive one before it’s too late. I’m sorry.”

My heart sank, and Michael stepped up toward the doctor.

“Is her heart defect something that a biopolymer coronary implant could correct?”

The doctor blinked in surprise, then looked at Michael in a new light.

“Why, yes, but how do you know about that? The technology is only now finishing clinical trials.”

He shook his head.

“Not to mention only one company produces the device, and there’s only one clinic where the FDA has approved of the procedure.”

“I know.” Michael grinned. “I own the company, and the clinic. Begin the preparations to move the patient to the clinic immediately.”

“Michael,” I gasped, hugging him tight. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this.”

I finally gave in to full-on, body-wracking sobs. I cried pretty hard onto his shoulder. Damon was sweet, coming up to hug both of our legs at once.

“It’s going to be alright, Jenna.” Michael stroked his hand through my hair soothingly. “It’s going to be alright.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jenna

I’d been to Michael’s penthouse a few times before when we were seeing each other. Before he fired me, of course.

This was the first time I’d been there with my son in tow. I had originally feared that it wouldn’t be very kid friendly in my long absence. That there would be naked statues or straight-up pornography adorning the walls. You can never tell with bachelors. I shouldn’t have been worried. Michael was never that crass.

The penthouse was expansive, taking up most of the top floor. Michael had no less than three different magnificent views, one for the master bedroom, the living room, and the eat-in kitchen.

The penthouse also featured a guest quarters. Notice I didn’t say guest room. I said guest quarters with their own living room, bathroom, and kitchen.

Michael had invited us over not for dinner or a playdate with my son. Our purpose was something very solemn.

I sat stiffly erect on the modern black leather sofa, facing the big screen monitor suspended over the living room. My son sat nearby. Damon played with a pair of action figures on the rounded edge of the oval coffee table.

He glanced up over his shoulder at me, eyes unusually troubled.